Her Cowboy Prince - Madeline Ash Page 0,15

cheek.

She gave a nod and hoped he knew what it meant.

“Have you been okay?”

If it weren’t for the painful lump in her throat, she might have laughed. No. She hadn’t been okay. She’d been out of her mind. She had a job she didn’t deserve. A secret task that was taking too long. A new home that made her skittish and uneasy. And the best friendship of her life had realigned squarely into heartache. She didn’t know where the lies ended, the truth began, and if either really mattered when Kris would soon be King of Kiraly.

“Hey.” Suddenly Kris was propped up on his elbow, his face way too close to hers. Or not quite close enough. His hand still held her face, and concern filled his gaze. “Are you okay?”

“Not really.” And it was only going to get worse. “I . . .” Her fingers tightened around his shoulders. “I’ve—missed you, too.”

His eyes flickered, surprised.

“More than is good for me,” she admitted under her breath.

“Actually,” he said as desire shadowed his features. “I get the feeling that missing each other is about to make things as good as they can get.”

And just like that her blood flushed and it was all she could do not to lower herself over him. It was obvious what he meant by things. Hands and mouths and him moving strong and practiced inside her. In a world where she’d never lied to him, their prolonged yearning would pack one hell of a release. Even now, the temptation to surrender to him almost bested her. His lust had always commanded hers. One hazy look and her insides practically moaned.

She clung to resistance only because his embrace wasn’t meant for her.

Once, when she was a girl, a new teacher had called her by the wrong name at school. Lola, sweetheart, could you collect the pencils? Lola, with rows of gold stars beside her name—not Frankie, with her heavy black asterisk and the last of many final warnings. Lola had been holidaying in Dubai with her family, and despite knowing it was wrong, Frankie had felt a secret thrill to be mistaken for someone greater than herself. She’d collected the pencils. Set the classroom chairs on the desks after the bell. She’d even walked with the teacher all the way to the staff room, carrying her folders, just so she’d receive a warm smile and be told she was a good girl.

Kris was like that teacher. He held her because he didn’t know who she truly was. And even though it was selfish and ugly to fool him, his appreciation lit her up like sunlight on water and she couldn’t find the strength to plunge herself into the dark deep below.

She didn’t move, didn’t speak as his attention fixed on her mouth.

“All these months,” he murmured, “I’ve thought you hated me.”

His lust-thick voice wove need between her legs. “I could never hate you.”

“Frankie.” He brought himself closer, so close the warmth of her own breath returned to her in the intimate space. The coils of their attraction tightened. “I’ve regretted the way we parted every day since I last saw you. I’d wanted to ask—that is, it’s something I’ve always wanted to . . .” His hand tilted her face carefully toward him and his next words blew a sweet promise against her lips. “Can I kiss you?”

Yes.

A throat cleared in her ear. She went rigid.

“Shall we move in?” Hanna asked, tone neutral. “Or give you some privacy? Either option is cool.”

Oh, Jesus. Her team.

“Move in,” she answered, head reeling in sudden panic.

Kris stilled. His focus lifted to her eyes, brow nudging down. “Was that a yes?”

Grief clutched beneath her breastbone as she gave a slight shake of her head.

His frown deepened when she ducked away from his hand and stood up. “You’re leaving?” He sprang to his feet, looking alarmed. “I’m sorry I asked that. I didn’t mean to—you found me. So, we’re okay now, right? We need to talk. About everything. Please tell me you know that.”

“I know.” And boy, was it going to be one harrowing talk. “I’m not leaving.”

“Good.” He stepped toward her and grabbed her hand. She didn’t allow herself to grip him back. “Come with me up to the . . .” His attention shot over her shoulder. “Hey. Nice timing.”

The security cars had pulled up at the end of the lane. She stood rooted to the spot, back turned, pulse pounding in her ears. A car door clicked closed and

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